


under stars we are alone

by aceaaronminyard (necklace)



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mythology References, POV Second Person, and with that in mind? enjoy, i read the first chapter of the first book and hated it, i want to point out that in no way does this refer to the percy jackson series, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-04 03:10:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10982121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/necklace/pseuds/aceaaronminyard
Summary: You will learn, later, that if you are Atlas then Andrew is Prometheus. Still brothers, still cut from the same cloth, still connected despite the aftermath of a war you shouldn't have fought in, yet the distance between you is greater than the fate of the cosmos.





	under stars we are alone

**Author's Note:**

> this is completely self indulgent. i wanted to try 2nd POV writing and mythology has always been a weakness of mine, so why not combine the two?
> 
> title inspired by [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5AWHALoCzPM)

When you were young, when you were stupid, when you thought the world was spiting you at every turn, you learned about the Gods. The ancient ones, the cruel ones, the Gods that made mortals have blood in their veins instead of the ichor that ran through their own.

 

The downside is that religion has never been Tilda's thing, not in the traditional sense, but with every hit and yell and bruise and scrape, you can't help but compare yourself to Atlas. Doomed to hold the sky on your shoulders, doomed to trick Heracles into carrying your burden temporarily, doomed to think you could be free from your crimes.

 

* * *

 

You will learn, later, that if you are Atlas then Andrew is Prometheus. Still brothers, still cut from the same cloth, still connected despite the aftermath of a war you shouldn't have fought in, yet the distance between you is greater than the fate of the cosmos.

 

You take what you can get. In some versions of the myth, after all, just as Heracles saved Prometheus Heracles can save you too. Maybe you're freed, maybe instead of the skies in the palm of your hands pillars get erected to ease your burden.

 

Maybe Neil Josten is Heracles.

 

* * *

 

"Bearer of the Heavens," you whisper. Katelyn doesn't stir next to you but you have to breathe the words anyway, have to keep quiet despite the early hour. Challenging the Gods has never been something you could control, but here, now, warm and halfway to falling asleep again, you force your composure to hold. "Atlas the baleful. Is freedom not enough for you?"

 

You laugh, and it is cruel. Katelyn stirs.

 

* * *

 

In the end, you've never been able to find out if Prometheus and Atlas reconnect. You don't know if they spent the rest of their days awkward, if Gods could even _feel_ awkward, or if Prometheus stood at the foot of wide stone mountains and wept for a brother who chose a different path.

 

You decide to finish the story for them, and it goes like this:

 

Atlas and Prometheus go to therapy every Wednesday. It's hard, it's _so fucking hard_ , but they endure. They are Titans. They were made for pain and fire and cruelty, they were made for war, they were made for sharp words and sharper smiles and the press of a blade against ribs.

 

But you are made for each other, too. This is apparent at every twist, at every curl of Prometheus's lips, every time he tricks the Gods into doing his bidding for the sake of what he believes is right. Prometheus never lies, but the truth is wielded by his tongue alone and not even Heracles' clever words can compete with them.

 

You, though. You, you, you. You're made for destruction, made for holding the skies in the muscles in your back, in your shoulders, made for the knots in your neck after a long day of keeping yourself from sinking into unforgiving Earth.

 

You learn that you deserve to be liberated, that ~~because of~~ despite everything, Prometheus deserves it too, perhaps more than you'll ever be able to understand.

 

(If dealing with a claustrophobia you only get in Bee's office every week gets you to the point where you can look at each other, then hell, you'd do it every day for the rest of your life. You'd do it rain or shine or in good health or dying, because the pain makes it _real_. The pain reminds you that you are not a God, but a mortal with blood in your veins instead of golden ichor.)

 

Most of all, you learn that Atlas deserves to be happy.

**Author's Note:**

> comments/kudos are always appreciated B)
> 
> i'm over at [@aceaaroniscanon](http://aceaaroniscanon.tumblr.com) (aftg blog) and [@tsoaandpatroclus](http://tsoaandpatroclus.tumblr.com) (mythology blog) on tumblr, so hmu!!!!!


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